


Here Be Dwaggins

by Aida



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwilbo Week 2014, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, fem!Dwalin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fics for Dwilbo Week 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Protective

**Author's Note:**

> YAAAAY!!! I DID THE THING!!!
> 
> What thing you ask? Well, I might have started a Dwilbo Week on Tumblr. Mostly because I've seen similar things for Dwori and Bagginshield. This is the FIRST DAY. Yes, it's a Tuesday. No, it's not a joke, I promise.

“You need to stop.”

Thorin looked at Dwalin, a little caught off guard by his friend’s sudden statement. It wasn’t that the old warrior rarely spoke unless spoken to, but he wasn’t necessarily expecting him to catch Thorin away from the others, let alone demand something out of him in such away.

“What do I need to stop?” He asked, eyebrow raised, and Thorin was once again surprised when Dwalin’s stare hardened.

“If you really don’t know, you’re as foolish as your nephews.” Dwalin replied, and Thorin felt he had every right to feel insulted. “I meant, you need to stop talking down at the burglar that way. Hobbit and an outsider he may be, but he is a part of this company just like the rest of us. He’s already feeling like a bother, and he doesn’t need you to add to his strain.”

It was Thorin’s turn to glare now. “I’ve already got enough to deal with, leading my people into certain death.” He argued. “The last thing I need to bother with is whether or not I’ve hurt a halfling’s _feelings_.”

“He’s as much of a Halfling as we are.” Dwalin stated. “And I’m not asking you to be friends with him. Only that you don’t try to make him feel more left out than he already does.”

“He has no idea what he’s doing-.”

“He’s _learning_.”

“-And he’s far too weak to be travelling with us-.”

“He has as much knowledge of battle and the wild as Ori does.”

“And I cannot afford anyone slowing us down!”

“He’s a lot swifter than any of us. He’s even outrun the wizard, and he’s as tall as a Man.”

“Why are you arguing with me on this?” Thorin finally hissed, tired of his friend questioning him. “Do not tell me you’re soft on the hobbit, Dwalin.”

Said warrior bristled. “It has nothing to do with me being soft on anyone.” Dwalin stated. “I’m just trying to remind you of how to act civilized!”

“Civilized!?” Thorin parroted, about to argue further, but Dwalin raised a hand.

“Yes, _civilized_.” Dwalin growled. “Or have you truly forgotten how to talk to someone without shoving your boots down your throat?”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed at his friend. “You really are soft on him, aren’t you?”

Dwalin scoffed. “Why do you keep changing the subject?”

“Because you would not bother defending him otherwise.” 

A growl erupted deep from within Dwalin’s chest as he straightened. “Whether or not I’m soft on him doesn’t matter.” He stated. “What does matter is that Tharkûn insists that we need him. That he has left everything behind to help us, and that he’s willing to show us kindness when everyone else has turned us away.”

Thorin’s jaw clenched, and Dwalin could see the muscles jumping underneath his friend’s skin.

“I do not ask that you make friends with him.” He continued. “Just try not to berate him so in the future.”

Thorin nodded, though the movements were stiff. “I will try not to.” Was his reply. “So long as he stays out of trouble.”

Dwalin wanted to argue further, but his friend was already moving to rejoin the group by the fire. He sighed, massaging his temples, only to freeze when he heard some leaves rustling nearby.

“You might as well come out.” He called when it suddenly stopped. “I know you’re there. It would be useless to run, now.”

There was more rustling, and Dwalin was a little surprised to see the hobbit in question step into view.

“I-I’m sorry for startling you.” Bilbo told him. “I just… I was just heading back myself. I need to, well…”

“Think nothing of it.” Dwalin cut in, leaving them both standing in silence for a few long moments. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough, I think.” Bilbo answered, looking up at the warrior. “You didn’t have to, you know.”

Dwalin scoffed. “Someone had to.” He argued. “No one else would, and I was sick of watching Thorin act like he was forty again.”

“Well, regardless…” The hobbit replied, and Dwalin fought the urge to jump when he felt a gentle hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He wanted to brush it off, but one look at those bright green eyes told him just how much it meant to him. 

“It was no trouble.” Dwalin stated, only for Bilbo to scoff.

“I might not know you as well as the others, but I know that you are close to Thorin.” He stated. “I’m sure it was at least a little trouble. And I thank you for it, nonetheless.”

Dwalin snorted, gaining a grin this time. “Then you are welcome, though you shouldn’t have to thank me.” He said. “You are one of us, after all.”

Bilbo’s grin broadened, and Dwalin had to admit that Thorin was right in the sense that he was at least a _little_ soft on the burglar. But really, who wouldn’t be?

“Yes, well… I hope to return the favor, if I can.” Bilbo stated, and Dwalin doubted he ever would need to. “And one last thing, if you please…”

Dwalin frowned, even as Bilbo motioned and tugged. He leaned down, confusion growing, only for his mind to go blank the moment he felt soft lips caress his cheek, seeing the hobbit go as red as one of his prize tomatoes.

“I… I may or may not be soft on you, too.” He muttered quickly, and Dwalin could only blink in response. “Well, Bombur needs help with dinner, and I don’t want Thorin to get angry at me again, so…!”

He didn’t even finish, only rushed off in the same direction Thorin went, leaving Dwalin standing where he was, hunched over nothing. Eventually, he regained himself and returned to camp just as dinner was being dished out. He decided not to say anything to Bilbo, for he seemed rather harried and distracted.

The only thing Dwalin did was place his bedroll next to Bilbo’s later that night. And if he shared a smile with the hobbit in question when they tucked in for the night, no one was the wiser.


	2. Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's lucky it isn't broken, and Dwalin has been avoiding him. Post BOFA

“You’re lucky it isn’t broken.”

Bilbo could only nod, grinding his teeth as Oin tended to his ankle. His ankle that had been injured during the battle, and it was an injury he ignored until he was sure Thorin and his nephews would survive. Granted, he was just going to lay down and keep it elevated, but Ori just _had_ to notice. Ori, who was now creeping back into the tent they were in as Oin began to wrap his ankle up.

“How is it?” The scribe asked.

“Not broken.” Bilbo replied. “Like I said, it’s just a sprain. Not the first time I got one, though it has been a while.”

“Oh…”

The hobbit frowned, for Ori seemed a little distracted. In fact, if Bilbo were to guess, he looked a little guilty.

“Ori?” He pressed. “Ori, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all! Just…” Ori muttered. “I… I might’ve told Dwalin…”

Bilbo tensed at the name of his lover. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Dwalin, or that he held a grudge. It was that Dwalin clearly did, for he hardly uttered a word or spared him a glance since the fighting ceased. Clearly, there were some members of the Company that hadn’t forgiven him for what he had done, and Dwalin was one of them.

“That… That isn’t too bad…” Bilbo finally replied, but Ori winced. “Unless… Ori, what did you tell him exactly?”

“Only that you were injured, and that Oin was tending to you.” He muttered, and Bilbo groaned. “I’m sorry! Really, I am! But Dwalin ran off before I could explain any further, and I don’t know where he went! I-!”

Ori’s ramblings cut off abruptly with a squeak when the flaps to the tent were thrown open and Dwalin stomped in, breathing heavily and scanning the area. Bilbo fought the urge to fidget when those bright eyes landed on him and the warrior stiffened.

It was silent for a few tense moments as Oin finished up, looking at Dwalin with raised brows before gathering up his supplies.

“Right!” The healer stated, straightening. “You best stay off that foot for a while, or it really will get broken. Ori, come with me. I need your help tending to the lads.”

“B-But-!” Ori sputtered, even as Oin walked over and grabbed him by the arm.

“It’ll be alright, lad.” Oin stated as he steered them out of the tent. “They need some privacy, anyway.”

Then, they were gone, leaving Bilbo and Dwalin to stare at each other. That was all they did, for a while, until Bilbo cleared his throat.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“It’s as well as it can be.” Dwalin answered, shuffling a little, and Bilbo had never seen him do that. “Ori… He said you were injured.”

“Either he exaggerated that fact, or you never gave the poor boy time to explain himself.” He replied. “Truly, it’s just a sprain. Nothing too lethal.”

“Good.”

More silence, and Bilbo fought the urge to yell at Dwalin. To throw things, to even cry. 

“That’s all it is, really.” He finally said, trying to keep his voice even. “You can go now. Clearly, you don’t want to be here.”

He heard the warrior draw a quick, sharp breath as his hands flexed.

“It’s not-…” Dwalin finally said. “I… I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see right now…”

Bilbo frowned. “Why?” He asked. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to acknowledge my presence.”

There was a chuckle, but it sounded rather flat. Bitter. “Lad, there’s no way I couldn’t acknowledge it.” He confessed. “But I’m sure that’s the last thing _you_ want, after everything I did.”

Bilbo was confused. “What are you talking about?”

Dwalin seemed a little confused himself. “After the way I treated you? When we were digging through gold and I ignored you? When you went to the… Elven camp without me there to protect you. When you were banished and when….” He cut himself off, then, lips thin. “I did nothing… I just _stayed there_ …”

It made awful sense, now that Bilbo heard him say it, and suddenly he felt so very tired. Weary, he opened his arms. “Come here.”

He hesitated, clearly unsure of whether or not he was welcome, but eventually Dwalin took a seat next to Bilbo’s cot and stretched over him, head pressed against his chest and arms winding around Bilbo’s middle.

“I do not blame you.” Bilbo told him, tangling his fingers in Dwalin’s hair as he stiffened. “Granted, I would’ve liked someone to’ve stepped in, but I don’t blame anyone, especially you. As for… when I was banished… I didn’t expect you to follow me. In fact, I was glad that you didn’t. While I wanted you with me, Thorin _needed_ you there with him. I can’t imagine how bad off he would’ve been if you left with me. Or worse, if you fought him off of me.”

“I did almost pummel him to the ground.” Dwalin mumbled into Bilbo’s chest. “I didn’t do that, of course. But I did punch him once you had gone.”

Bilbo snorted. “Is that why he’s sporting such a shiner?”

“Maybe.”

He laughed, then. A full-bodied laugh that had him curling around Dwalin’s head as the warrior laughed into his dirtied tunics. Eventually, the warrior straightened.

“I’m sorry, mizmen.” 

Bilbo huffed. “Nothing to be sorry about.” He answered. “If anything, kurdu, _I’m_ sorry.”

Dwalin’s face softened as it always did when Bilbo did his best at butchering khuzdul. He then leant forward to kiss Bilbo’s forehead, and months’ worth of tension leaked out of him.

“All is forgiven, then.” Dwalin muttered. “And I will stay here until you’ve fully recovered.”

“Honestly, Dwalin…” Bilbo chastised. “It’s just a-.”

He cut off when Dwalin sent him a look, and he eventually sighed. “Fine.” He muttered. “So long as you don’t try to carry me everywhere.”

His statement was met with silence.

“Dwalin, you will _not_ carry me everywhere. Promise me.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“ _Dwalin_!”


	3. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has things to settle in the Shire, so Dwalin waits for his return in Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the fem!Dwalin because of reasons.

“It’s only going to be for a few months.”

Dwalin blinked a couple of times before looking down at her brother. “Pardon?”

“Bilbo.” Balin explained. “He’ll only be sorting his affairs back in the Shire, and he’ll be back as soon as he can. He’ll probably arrive sooner than that, even, since he now knows the safest routes to travel, and has made many allies.”

She blinked a couple of times before scoffing. “I know all that, brother.” She told him. “Though why you insist upon reminding me is still a question left unanswered.”

Balin sent her a look, and she felt like a child again. Like she had once again gotten caught eating sweets before dinner, or causing havoc with Thorin. It was a look that told her that she was clearly wrong in his eyes, and it broke no argument.

“Sister,” He told her, “I know that you miss him, and that you’ve been fretting since he’s left…”

Dwalin groaned, going back to her lunch even as Balin continued. 

“He will return to you, and he will return safe and in one piece.” He said. 

“I am not _fretting_!” Dwalin growled around a mouthful of meat. “You forget that I’m no longer sixty.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He replied, and Dwalin hated that tone. “Though all your worrying could be avoided if you had gone with him.”

“I’m Thorin’s guard and his most trusted friend.”

“So am I and a continuously growing number of others.”

“Erebor is still weak. We need all the help we can get defending her!”

“It could’ve spared a warrior who wished to go with her intended to the Shire.”

“Oh, will you cease such chatter!?” Dwalin finally snapped. “I am not fretting! I am not worried, or anxious, or any of that nonsense! I know that Bilbo will be back, and that he will be fine! And I am not some swooning maiden who cannot live her life without her One by her side!”

“I know…” Balin conceded, and Dwalin waited a few moments before going back to her food. For she was sure that she no longer had to try to shove a bone down her dear brother’s throat.

“… But you would prefer it.” Or perhaps she would.

**x**

It wasn’t that she _didn’t_ miss Bilbo. She did, and terribly so. Thorin teased her enough about how obvious she was before his own intended would intervene. It wasn’t even that she was worried that he would encounter too many problems on his journey there and back, for he did have allies on top of the guard that was sent to follow him. 

Well, perhaps she did worry a little bit, but it was natural, and it wasn’t solely because she thought he’d get hurt. It was because she worried that he wouldn’t _want_ to come back. That he would go back to his little hobbit hole and his fellow hobbits and come to the conclusion that living in a mountain with a dwarrowdam as a wife was a stupendously terrible idea and just decided to never come back. It was silly in a way, for she knew he loved her. He was the one who asked to court her, after all. He was usually the one who sought out her company. Yet despite knowing that he wanted to marry her before he had gone, she still worried. 

“Don’t worry about it, Mistress Dwalin!” Kíli told her one day. “He’ll come back!”

“Certainly!” Fíli said. “I mean, it’s not like he’s going to settle with one of the lasses in the Shire. If he was going to do that, he would’ve done that before the quest!”

Dwalin merely hummed at them, readying herself for their training.

“True, but…” Kíli whispered, though Dwalin could hear him quite clearly. “What if he didn’t settle for them because they didn’t want to? What if coming back from a quest changed their minds?”

“Oh, I haven’t thought about that…”

If Dwalin were a little more harsh than she usually was training with the siblings that day, she was sure no one could blame her.

**x**

It had been more than just a few months before anyone came back, aside from the caravans at least. Dwalin was both relieved and concerned when it was Gandalf, and just Gandalf, who had arrived at the gates. Gandalf, who had gone with Bilbo to escort him at least part of the way back to the Shire, and who had promised to help guide him back. Yet he was alone, with no guard and no burglar.

“Where is he?” She demanded the moment she was close enough.

The wizard merely raised an eyebrow. “And greetings to you as well, Lady Dwalin.” He replied. “My journey was quite pleasant, I assure you. Save for an incident or two, at least.”

Dwalin merely glared at him. “Where. Is. He?”

Gandalf still seemed a bit perturbed that she was being so blunt, but he took a deep breath instead of arguing. “We ran into a little trouble.” He conceded, and he hurried to continue when she immediately paled. “Bilbo Baggins is still alive, I assure you! Merely got into a scuffle with a couple of bandits, is all.”

Dwalin let out a deep, shuddering breath. “How…” She started. “How bad is it…?”

“It’s only a nick, Dwalin. Truly, it doesn’t even bother me, anymore.”

She immediately moved around Gandalf to see the source of the voice, feeling relief wash over as she saw Bilbo standing there. Bilbo, who was sending Gandalf an annoyed look.

“Did you really have to walk in front of me?” He asked. “She didn’t see-!”

Dwalin didn’t even let him finish, sweeping him up in her arms, nuzzling his hair and relishing his warmth.

“Took you long enough.” She finally muttered after a moment. 

“I know. I’m sorry I was gone longer than expected.” He replied, embracing her as well as he could. “Some of my relatives put up quite a fuss over my return and my second departure. Many arguments against my choices and the like. Then the bandits, as you’ve heard.”

She reeled back, belatedly remembering that he was _injured_ and probably found her embrace painful. “Where-?”

“It’s on my leg! I assure you, it’s nothing too terrible.” Bilbo stated, grabbing her arm. “Now, come on. I’m sure the others would like to know that I’m back as well, but first…”

Dwalin blinked, seeing how Bilbo tilted his head towards Gandalf before she finally realized what he meant.

“Ah, yes.” She muttered. “Thorin is currently in a meeting, but he should be free to converse with you shortly.”

“ _Dwalin_ -!” Bilbo hissed before she continued.

“Welcome back to Erebor, Tharkûn. It’s always a pleasure.” She said, swallowing a little before holding Bilbo close to her with one arm. “And… Thank you…”

She didn’t explain what exactly she was thankful for, but from Gandalf’s smile, he seemed to understand. “You are most certainly welcome.” 

After a few more parting words, Dwalin lead Bilbo through the entrance and down the halls. Once she had told a guard to send out word that he had returned, Bilbo nudged her and she saw him grin.

“So,” He stated. “Did you miss me?”

Dwalin huffed. “Only a little bit.”


	4. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo's day is full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A different post-Hobbit ficcie that I've actually had rolling about in my head for a while, just never wrote it down. Nooot the best, but oh well.

Frodo had never actually met dwarves, for they rarely stepped foot in the Shire. He had only ever heard about them from the tales his Uncle Bilbo would share about his adventure and its ending filled with tragedy. Had heard of three lives unfairly taken, and the love Bilbo had lost with his betrayal. So all that Frodo knew about dwarves didn’t exactly prepare him for actually meeting them.

He did meet them, when he had gone off to the market for groceries and found that a number of them had taken up shop there. He was drawn to it, his Uncle’s tales rushing through his head as he marveled at the tools and crafts that were up for sale. 

When a dwarf with a rather strange hat approached him, talking about some of the gardening tools, Frodo only half listened. For on the other side of the stall stood a rather foreboding dwarf. Large and muscular, riddled with scars and tattoos with only a single, ratty braid in his beard. Granted, his appearance was startling, but Frodo was more drawn to the fact that the large dwarf seemed rather forlorn and tired, and whatever smiles he shared with the others seemed rather forced.

“Don’t mind him.” The hat-bearing dwarf spoke up, snapping Frodo out of his daze and sending him a cheeky grin. “I know he looks tough, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

He flushed a little. “I-I’m sorry for staring…” He muttered. “It’s just… Is he alright?”

The dwarf’s smile went a little thin. “As well as can be.” He replied. “He’s… He’s in mourning, you see. Has been for years.”

“Oh…” Frodo muttered, for now he understood. “So that’s why he’s only got one braid.”

“In a sense, yes…” The dwarf drawled slowly. “How would you know that, then?”

“My uncle.” Frodo admitted. “He told me a little about dwarrow customs. Not a lot since, well, his own knowledge is minimal at best.”

“I see, so that explains it!” The dwarf stated, glancing back at the large one that was now standing in the shadows. “Now, I don’t mean to pry, lad, but… Well, we tend to be rather secretive. How did your uncle come about this knowledge?”

“He travelled with some.” He explained. “You might’ve heard about him, actually. He was with the company that retook the Lonely Mountain and came back after the King and his nephews… well…”

“W-What?” The dwarf sputtered, looking rather pale.

Frodo felt something cold settle in his stomach, especially since he saw the large dwarf stiffen from where he stood.

“The… The Company of Thorin Oakenshield…?” He continued, and all the dwarves turned to him. “I… Did I offend…?”

“No, lad…” The dwarf choked out. “It’s just… that’s not possible…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean-.”

“Hobbit.”

They both jumped at the sound of that gravelly voice, and Frodo looked up at the large dwarf that was now standing next to the other. He had a hard expression on his face, his bright eyes gleaming.

“Your Uncle…” The dwarf pressed. “What is his name?”

“B-Bilbo…” Frodo answered, afraid of giving them a false answer. “Bilbo Baggins.”

The large dwarf’s face went instantly blank, even as he staggered back and sat down, as if a great weight had settled on him.

“Oh-Oh dear!” Frodo cried, even as other dwarves rushed to the large one’s aid. “Did I- Did I do something wrong?”

“No, lad, no.” The dwarf with the hat answered, eyes gleaming. “But I think… I think it’s best you go on home, now.”

Frodo decided that heeding the dwarf’s words was probably very wise, especially since the large dwarf seemed to start growling.

**x**

“Uncle Bilbo?”

Said hobbit looked up from his spot in his armchair, smiling broadly at seeing his nephew. “Frodo!” He greeted. “How were the markets today? I hope you managed to get the ham I asked for…”

“Well, yes Uncle…” Frodo muttered, even as Bilbo stood up and headed for the kitchen. “But-!”

“That’s good.” Bilbo cut in. “I’ll get started on lunch, then. Anything excited happen?”

“Yes, actually.” He replied. “You see, there were dwarves at the market.”

Bilbo only paused for a brief moment. “Oh?”

“Yes. Dwarves from Erebor.” Frodo continued, and Bilbo had frozen to a dead stop. “Uncle, they knew about you…”

His Uncle rounded on him, face pale. “Frodo,” He pressed weakly. “What did you tell them?”

“Only that I knew you!” Frodo admitted. “But Uncle… I think they might not know that-!”

A loud banging at the door interrupted him, causing Bilbo to curse and scramble out of the kitchen.

“I’m not here!” Bilbo hurriedly hissed, and Frodo was about to protest when his Uncle dashed out of sight down the hall. 

He heaved a deep sigh, wincing when the banging resumed, louder than before. He hurried to the door, fearing that whoever was on the other side would break it down.

“Yes, can I-?” He started, opening the door, only to freeze when he saw the same large dwarf he saw collapse at the market. “Oh.”

“Where is he?” The dwarf growled.

“Well, you see, he isn’t-!” Frodo stammered, only to trail off when the dwarf merely stomped around him and began to march down the halls. “I’d check the study first, then, if I were you.”

“Pardon him, lad. He’s a bit… emotionally compromised, and he gets a wee aggressive when that happens.”

Frodo immediately whirled around to see the dwarf in the funny hat from before standing by the door with another by his side. This dwarf had long, dark hair with only a bit of stubble on his cheeks. A younger dwarf, then, or just one that shaved if the bow and quiver were anything to go by.

“Oh, you again.” Frodo muttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name before.”

“No worries. Bofur, at your service.” The dwarf replied cheerily. “This is-.”

“Kíli.” The younger dwarf cut in, smile wide and not reaching his eyes. “At your service.”

Frodo felt truly gobsmacked at that introduction, particularly since the only Kíli he’d ever heard about was dead.

“I take it you’ve heard of us.” Kíli continued. “So, what has your Uncle said about me, then? All bad, I suspect, judging by the circumstances.”

Frodo could only shake his head. “He… He said you had died…!”

Of course, Kíli did not take such news well. “He said I was _what_!?”

“I think we might have a few things to discuss, lad-.” Bofur cut in.

“ _Bilbo Baggins!_ ”

“-Preferably outside with the door closed.” Bofur hurried on, pulling Frodo out of the door and pulling it shut behind him. 

“I-Will they be alright?” He sputtered.

“He’ll be _fine_.” Kíli pressed. “Now, tell me why I’m dead!”

So, Bofur and Frodo sat on the bench whilst Kíli paced, and the young hobbit told the dwarves all that his Uncle Bilbo told him. About the Arkenstone, the banishment, the Battle, and then the deaths of Thorin and his nephews. 

It led to Kíli sputtering angrily and Bofur massaging his temples.

“I think,” The latter said after a few moments. “That there has been a great many number of misunderstandings going on these past couple of decades or so.”

“I would say so.” Kíli growled. “I’m _dead_ and he’s alive!”

Frodo now frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Frodo, as you might’ve guessed, Thorin Oakenshield did not die after the Battle. In fact, he survived, overcame his illnesses, and is currently King of Erebor.” Bofur explained. “However, after the Battle, we had gone in search of Bilbo, but we couldn’t find him. Even Gandalf didn’t know where he’d gone off to, and… Well… We presumed that he died.”

“What!?” He sputtered. “But… But that’s not true! I mean, Uncle Bilbo said Gandalf was the one who took him away!”

“Why didn’t he tell us, then?” Kíli asked, and he looked rather sad. “Why did Gandalf lie to us?”

“I think Bilbo asked him to.” Bofur replied. “Let’s face it, we weren’t all too kind to him. Especially Thorin, and Dwalin in particular…”

“Dwalin?”

“That big one that went charging through the smial earlier.” 

“Really?” Frodo breathed, eyes round with shock. “ _That’s_ Dwalin?”

“Aye, that he is.” Bofur answered. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… Uncle Bilbo said he was very close to a Dwalin.” He said. “I didn’t think that he’d be close to… well…”

“As I said, Dwalin might look fierce, but he’s actually a good sort.” Bofur said. “And yeah… They were _close_ …”

Kíli snorted and Frodo frowned in confusion. “What’s that about?”

“Dwalin was courting the burglar during the quest.” The prince answered. “That’s why he’s just a tad angry, and why he nearly fainted in shock at the market.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that!” Bofur cut in, but Kíli shrugged.

“I doubt he’d hear me. He’s probably having a shouting match with Bilbo right now.” He stated, and they all winced when the voices seemed to carry all the way outside of the smial that could have a boulder roll through it and no one else would be none the wiser. 

“So…” Frodo drawled once the shouting quieted down a bit. “They were… courting…? Master Dwalin and my uncle…”

“Since before we went through Mirkwood, yes.” Bofur answered, frowning. “Didn’t you know?”

“He… He said he lost a love when he was banished, but…” Frodo answered. “But I didn’t know it was someone like Dwalin…”

“You’d be surprised.” Kíli said, grinning. “In our culture, Dwalin’s actually quite a catch.”

Frodo snorted before he could help himself, and they all froze when the door opened. They held their breath when Dwalin immerged, eyes a hair brighter than before and cheeks holding an odd sheen.

“Well?” Bofur pressed. “Everything alright?”

“As good as it can be for now.” Dwalin answered. “But he’s asked me to invite you all inside. He’s willing to explain himself a bit to us all.”

“I certainly hope he does!” Kíli stated, leaping up. “He said I was dead!”

“Because that’s what he was told.” Dwalin remarked, and they all paused in the process of getting up. “That’s not my place to say, though. It’s his, and he’s going to. He’s invited us for lunch.”

“Well, that’s wonderful!” Bofur chirped as he Kíli rushed around Dwalin and inside. “My mom always said that it’s never good to discuss hard things on an empty stomach. Or was it Bombur? I’m sure it was both…”

Bofur moved to follow Kíli inside, and Frodo took his time, looking up at the large dwarf that he had seen looking barely alive in the market, now with a hard set in his shoulders and more of a spark in his eyes. 

It was hard to fathom why his Uncle chose Dwalin, for he seemed the farthest away from any of the hobbits in the Shire. Despite that, it seemed that there was no love lost, if Dwalin’s earlier rampage had anything to go by.

“So…” Frodo muttered, shuffling a little as he heard Dwalin hum. “I take it that this makes you my Uncle as well?”

It seemed that his words shocked a laugh out of the dwarf, and he relaxed a great deal when Dwalin grinned under his beard.

“No, lad.” He answered, and Frodo startled when he felt a hard hand land on his shoulder. “At least, not yet. If things go as we plan, however, it’s definitely likely.”


	5. Arranged Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the worst day in Bilbo's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so much the actual marriage as it is about what happens towards the end. Sort of. I dunno, it's another one of those "I think I could've done it better" prompt fills. I wrote this when I was half-asleep, sooo...

Erebor was slowly but surely being cleaned up and rebuilt. Dwarves were returning to the Lonely Mountain in droves. There were peace talks, exchanges, and most importantly of all, the royal family was almost completely recovered.

Despite all this, it was the worst day of Bilbo Baggins’s life. 

Almost a whole year ago, when the Company and Gandalf first invaded his smial, a problem was found after he finally agreed to sign the contract. A silly problem, really, caused by an ancient law that the dwarves still upheld. Basically, aside from joining a quest to reclaim a mountain from a dragon, he joined a dwarf in marriage. It was a marriage of convenience, sure, and they had agreed that they would have it annulled one day once the shares were divvied up and everything was in order.

That day was today, and Bilbo hated it. And it was his fault, really, for falling in love with a husband who didn’t love him back. Something that had been proven on a number of occasions, particularly recently. Because if Dwalin loved him, he would’ve protected him. If Dwalin loved him, he would’ve done something besides just standing there, watching him get banished. If Dwalin loved him, he wouldn’t avoid Bilbo like he was the plague. But he didn’t.

Dwalin didn’t love him, clearly, and it hurt.

Bilbo was pacing, waiting for Dwalin and his brother to arrive at the entrance of Thorin’s chambers, where he was currently standing outside of. He had wanted to at least talk to the warrior before all this, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. 

Then he saw them walking down the hall. Both with faces of cool indifference as they seemed to hurry along, and it made his already pained heart hurt even more.

Still, he looked at Dwalin, and he knew he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t annul this marriage until he _knew_.

“Dwalin,” He stated, trying to keep his voice even when they got close enough. “Dwalin, might we talk? In private?”

Said dwarf’s shoulders tensed, and Balin’s gaze grew a little pained.

“That might not be a good idea, laddie.” The elder dwarf answered. “Perhaps after you sign the papers-.”

“It can’t wait for that.” Bilbo insisted, looking up at Dwalin. “Dwalin, you don’t have to say anything. You just have to listen to me, okay?”

He dared to touch one of Dwalin’s arms, and he felt the muscles jump. He was afraid he’d be pushed away, but Dwalin merely took a deep breath and looked down at him.

“What is it?”

“I do not regret marrying you.” Bilbo stated. “You must know that I don’t. In fact, I’m… I’m glad I married you. But I do feel… Not regret, but… I just…”

He chewed his lip, unable to meet their eyes as he stared at one of Dwalin’s hands before gently grasping it. “I know that dwarrow have Ones.” He admitted, and he felt the dwarf tense under his hand. “Balin told me about it. He probably shouldn’t have, but I’m… I’m kind of glad he did. Because… Well, we hobbits don’t have Ones, as you know, but…”

Bilbo finally dared to look up at Dwalin again. “I… You’re the closest to a One I will ever have.” He finally confessed, seeing two sets of eyes widen at his words. “So that’s… That’s why I’m willing to annul the marriage, even though I don’t want to. Because I want you to find your One, like I found mine, and be able to love them without having to deal with your… Obligation towards me.”

He felt raw, open and vulnerable as the two brothers stared at him. He fought back tears and clenched his jaw to prevent it trembling, even as Balin moved his stare towards his brother.

“Dwalin…” He had breathed.

“Bilbo…” Dwalin breathed as well, and it hurt just a little more, since he’d _never_ called him that before.

Nothing else was said, though, for the door was pulled open and Fíli stuck his head out. “We’re ready.”

Bilbo pulled his hands away, tucking fitfully at his coat before he nodded, keeping his eyes downcast so he didn’t have to see looks of pity. 

Fíli stepped out of the way and pulled the door back to make room for them to enter. Bilbo was barely aware of Dwalin’s pace, more focused on not tripping, even as he saw Thorin seated at his desk. The King’s face was carefully blank as he watched them, a sheet of parchment at his desk with an ink well and two quills. Ori was there, and he was frowning, even as Balin moved to stand on Thorin’s other side once they were all close enough.

“Everything is as it was discussed previously.” The King stated. “You both still maintain your separate estates prior to your marriage, and you both will have your equal shares afterwards. Are there any objections? Things you wish to add?”

Silence, and Bilbo didn’t dare to look anywhere besides the desk. He didn’t even want to look at the contract there, knowing the words on them. He didn’t see what Dwalin was doing, didn’t _want_ to see. He just wanted to sign it and get it over with so he could run all the way to the Shire with his broken heart and never look back.

The silence was broken with Thorin’s sigh. “Very well.” He said, and Bilbo tensed a little when the contract was pushed towards him. “Bilbo, you may go first.”

With a deep breath, he reached for a quill with trembling hands, very much aware of the eyes watching him. Once it was in its hand, he let out a tremulous sigh before moving towards the well.

“Don’t.” He heard Dwalin state, and Bilbo dared to look at him. He saw the warrior’s tight expression and balled fists. But he was confused. Surely, this is what Dwalin wanted. There was no other reason why he would say otherwise.

Unless…

“Dwalin, it’s okay.” Bilbo forced out, doing his best to smile. “You don’t have to… Not for me…”

He looked back towards the contract, and his smile instantly fell from his face, even as he quickly dipped the quill into the ink and moved to sign where the contract indicated.

A large hand grabbed his and pulled, dragging a surprised Bilbo away from the desk.

“Wha- Dwalin!” He hissed. “Dwalin, stop! Just because I-!”

“ _Don’t_.” The warrior breathed out, and Bilbo’s words lodged somewhere in the back of his throat, even as he took both of Bilbo’s hands in his and went to his knees. It forced Bilbo to look at him. At his hard features and bright eyes. 

“Dwalin, I…” He managed out. “I’m not some obligation, and I refuse to make you stay in a marriage you don’t want. So please…”

“Bilbo…” Dwalin spoke, and his deep voice sounded deeper, more gravelly. “I don’t need to find my One. I’ve already found him.”

Tears welled up in Bilbo’s eyes, for this was the last thing he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to know about Dwalin’s One, and he didn’t want to go through this torture. 

“Don’t.” He forced out again. “Dwalin, please, just don’t…!”

“ _Please_ listen to me…” Dwalin insisted. “I’ve found my One. In truth… I’m already married to him.”

It took a few moments for those words to sink in, and yet Bilbo didn’t quite believe them.

“You’re not… Are you serious?” He dared to ask.

“Aye.” Dwalin answered, and his grip tightened. “I am.”

“Oh, you…!” Bilbo sobbed out before yanking his hands out of Dwalin’s grip and throwing his arms around the warrior’s neck as he felt his arms wind tightly around his middle. “Why didn’t you _say_ something?”

“Same reasons you didn’t.” Dwalin admitted into his chest, and Bilbo kissed his ragged ear for such an admission.

A throat cleared, and they both turned to the three still at the desk. Thorin was standing now, though, and he had a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“So…” The King drawled. “I take it you will not be getting an annulment, today?”

Dwalin stood, but he still held Bilbo close. Something the hobbit didn’t mind in the slightest. “Afraid not.” He admitted.

“Well, good.” Thorin replied, taking the contract off the table and tossing it into the fireplace. “Truly, though, did you have to wait until the last minute?”

Bilbo felt more than heard Dwalin scoff. “Apologies. I’m sure it took you a while to write it out, Ori.”

Ori merely shrugged. “No matter!” He replied. “So long as it spares me from writing out another marriage contract.”

“Actually…” Balin cut in. “We did lose it, I’m afraid. A quest is no place for official papers, after all.”

Bilbo sent them a look. “So… We’re not married?”

“Technically, you are.” Thorin replied. “We just don’t have the documented proof of it. Something we need. For records.”

Dwalin sent his brother a glare. “You planned this.”

Balin merely grinned. “What, me plot to make sure my brother and his One have a proper wedding? Certainly not. I have more important things to deal with besides my brother’s marital affairs.” He told him. “However, I do believe it would be nicer than your last one.”

Bilbo and Dwalin looked at each other, and Bilbo couldn’t help but grin.

“I don’t mind,” He said. “So long as I’m not in my housecoat this time.”


	6. Omegaverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin's in heat, and Bilbo helps out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has a bit of smut, so that's why the rating's going up.

Dwalin never liked his heats, if only because they were always so inconvenient and it made him terribly uncomfortable. At the worst of times it would happen, and he was left with feeling his sticky skin crawl. He would go damp and itchy, and the fever made him want to go naked during a snowstorm. He only thanked the Maker that he was still coherent, and he still had all his senses (though some of them were horribly amplified). Usually, he would wait them out, growling at anyone who dared to get to close. But he had a mate, now. A breeder that, though small, was kind and had just what he needed at that point in time: a knot.

Unfortunately they were in the wilderness, with the Company a few feet away. He just hoped that Bilbo would at least help give him some relief until they reached proper shelter. 

He looked at his mate curled into his side, still in a deep sleep. He buried his nose into his curls, his scent blocking the other borderline foul smells of the company.

“Bilbo.” Dwalin muttered, only to get a murmur in response. He growled before pinching the hobbit’s side. “ _Bilbo_ …”

“Ow!” Bilbo hissed at the pinch, opening his eyes and sending Dwalin a dark look. “What in the…? Dwalin, it’s not even light yet! Why are you…? Oh…”

Dwalin felt a little satisfaction when he watched Bilbo’s pupils blow up in size almost instantly, feeling his hardness nudge his side. 

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” He growled, grasping at Bilbo’s coat and tugging.

“Well, no, but- Dwalin, _no_!” Bilbo hissed, not even flinching when Dwalin glared. “We are _not_ doing this for the entire Company to see!”

“What else can we do?” Dwalin hissed right back. “I’m in _heat_! I’m no help to the Company right now!”

“I know, I know, but…” Bilbo muttered, letting out a deep sigh before pulling out of the dwarf’s grasp, patting his chest when Dwalin reached for him. “Come on, then. Let’s at least try to get some privacy.”

Dwalin immediately stood, waiting for Bilbo to gather one of their bedrolls before following him through the brush into a clearing that, while secluded, wasn’t far from camp. As soon as the hobbit laid the bedroll out, Dwalin pounced, licking into his mouth and tugging at his trousers.

Bilbo mewled at the contact, but batted Dwalin’s hands away. “Ah-No. I’m going to help you, but I’m not dropping trough.” He stated. “If I do that, we’ll knot, and we don’t have enough time for that.”

Dwalin frowned. “Then how is this going to work?” 

The hobbit merely smirked at the dwarf’s growl. “Don’t you worry.” He replied, and Dwalin felt nimble fingers undo the laces to his trousers. “Just take these off and lie down…”

“And think of Erebor?” The dwarf quipped, tugging his trousers down and feeling the cold air sting his skin.

Bilbo snorted. “If that’s what gets your rocks off, love, then so be it.” He remarked, and Dwalin snorted himself before lying down.

He felt a little satisfaction as he spread his legs and Bilbo collapsed onto his knees between them. It was uncomfortable, feeling the cool air on his skin and bringing to attention the dampness between his legs, but it was worth it to see his hobbit so enthralled. Something he never thought he’d appreciate until now. Because he _needed_ Bilbo enthralled so he could _do something about it_.

“Oh, sweet Yavanna…” Bilbo muttered, and Dwalin’s laugh turned into a pained groan when he felt small hands stroke his thighs.

“Bilbo…” He growled. “If you’re just going to sit there…!”

He bit Dwalin’s thigh, and the dwarf’s hips twitched at Bilbo’s smirk. 

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there…” The hobbit assured before his head ducked down, nuzzling past the thatch of hair and locking his lips around Dwalin’s cock.

He hissed at touch, the suction making his toes curl and his insides throb. It was a rare thing for a breeder to do something like this, for many thought that a carrier’s cock was an unnecessary focal point. For Dwalin, though, it was at that point in time, because while it was nice, it wasn’t what he needed. 

Of course, Bilbo had a knack of being able to tell what Dwalin needed, particularly when he was trying to hump his face. So it didn’t take long for him to take two of his fingers and thrust them into Dwalin’s heat.

The dwarf hummed, feeling those fingers thrust and twist as the suction didn’t even falter. It wasn’t Bilbo’s cock, far from it, but when a third finger joined the first two, it didn’t matter. It would soon, particularly when he’d feel the heat between his legs build and gut tighten. Because despite there being something, it wouldn’t be _enough_.

Then it happened.

Dwalin dared to look between his legs, seeing those green eyes shrouded by curls, and suddenly he felt it. He felt Bilbo’s fingers twist and fumble before his vision whited out and he exploded. He barely caught his scream with a fist in his mouth as he came, twitching and shuddering, dimly aware that it felt _different_.

Once he had calmed, though his release was still thrumming through him as it would if he were knotted, he was aware that it _felt_ like he was knotted. Dwalin frowned, looking down at Bilbo, seeing his cheeks flushed and his chin glistening, but still fully clothed and his hand still between his legs. 

“I’ll give it a bit more.” The hobbit explained softly. “Then I’ll take them out.”

“Take what out?” Dwalin asked, voice scratchy. “What did you _do_?”

Bilbo merely grinned. “Just a bit longer…”

Dwalin growled at the lack of explanation, but he was too blissed out to argue the point further. He merely waited for his peak to finish, when Bilbo then pulled out and moved his hand away. 

“That was your hand?” Dwalin asked as he pushed himself up and Bilbo began to clean them both with the handkerchief Bofur gave him. The only reason he allowed it was because it no longer smelled of the miner.

“It was.” Bilbo answered, waving the fingers in question. “It was something I picked up in a book, once. Something that isn’t _necessarily_ a knot, but it’s good enough to take the edge off for a little while at least.”

Dwalin hummed. “Will you show me?” He asked. “Curiosity’s sake, and all.”

Bilbo snorted. “If you want.” He said. “I’ll even walk you step by step once we reach Gandalf’s friend’s place and find a room for ourselves.”

Dwalin growled at the mere thought, only to cut himself off when he felt Bilbo tug his trousers back up.

“No sooner, though.” Bilbo told him. “The Company’s going to be awake any minute, and I don’t want your brother going after my head.”


	7. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balin is tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last day, you guys! I'm kinda sad that it's over, and that some of these weren't my best. But I had fun, and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Balin was tired.

It had been a long day of dealing with dignitaries, princes who tried to escape meetings to hunt, and a certain King who tried to escape meetings to go to the library for some reason or another. That, plus paperwork and Dori having to deal with his rapidly growing business pretty much drained him. It was a reminder that he was getting old, for her certainly _felt_ old, now. All he wanted after the day he had was a long, hot bath and some sleep.

Unfortunately, the minute he entered the apartments he shared with his brother, he realized that such fantasies wouldn’t come to fruition. For there were noises coming from Dwalin’s room. Loud noises. Whether they were of pain or pleasure, he did not know. All he did know was that he wouldn’t be getting any sleep unless he put a stop to it.

Without a second thought, he marched up to the door and tore it open, only to regret it moments afterwards.

For Dwalin was in bed, his arms tied up to the bed post and his legs spread wide with a very familiar hobbit between his legs doing something with his hands that Balin didn’t even want to think about. Both were very flushed, very sweaty, very _naked_ , and he realized that Dwalin was not in pain in the slightest.

Sadly, this wasn’t the first time he had caught his brother in a compromising position such as the one he was seeing. So it was quite easy to regain his voice.

“While I do not mind that you are moving along in your relationship and are seemingly quite… Happy, I would like to remind you both that Dwalin isn’t the only one who lives here. It is also rather late, and I would like to be able to fall asleep some time before dawn at the _least_.” He lectured. “Please, for everyone’s sake, keep the noise _down_.”

Balin then promptly shut the door just as he heard Dwalin begin cursing a blue streak and Bilbo making the most peculiar wheezing noises. And he would’ve left there, he _really_ should have, but he was tired and, well, he felt he deserved one more jab at them for the evening.

So he opened the door one last time and flashed them a blinding smile. “By the way, Bilbo Baggins,” He chirped, “Welcome to the family.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know more about Dwilbo Week?
> 
> http://omgaidawtf.tumblr.com/post/81302771868/here-be-dwaggins-dwilbo-week-2014


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